Chapter Eighty-One: Calm Before the Storm
For a long time, Xaphile and Sinmir remained silent.
There was really nothing much to say, after all.
But then, the blonde man finally looked at him, mouth pulled into yet another frown.
"I want you to tell me the truth," he muttered. "What is your relationship with the strange fae who forced Ella to hurt you? That is the biggest question I have now."
Xaphile flinched, squeezing his eyes shut with a grimace.
"Do I have to answer?"
"No. But I would greatly appreciate it if you would confide in me."
For a few moments, there was silence.
"Fine," he eventually sighed, long ears drooping. "That man, Vordt... he's supposedly my father's brother, and they look so much alike that I actually mistook him for my dad. That would also make Zelphira, the Queen of Calcoon, my Aunt. I'm apparently directly related to royalty."
He said it in a joking manner, but Sinmir's expression darkened to the point of being frightening.
"That man is your uncle?" he lowly inquired. "Your own flesh and blood tried to kill you?"
"Yep," Xaphile weakly confirmed, then turned his head away and looked at Ella's sleeping face; she was breathing deeply and evenly, long-lashed eyes closed tight. "Then again, the kind of treatment I got from him earlier was actually more normal for me than anything else."
Sinmir's shoulders tensed.
"What?" he demanded, staring at him without blinking. "How is such horrid behavior normal for you?! And how can you be so nonchalant about a man who tried to take your life?!"
"My father back on earth was the same way. I grew up being treated like this."
The words slipped out of him before he could stop them, but apparently it had been the wrong thing to say if the expression of outraged shock that had fallen across Sinmir's expression was any clue.
For a long moment, all the prince did was stare at him with his eyes bugging out of his head, but then those eyes narrowed and his mouth grew tight, nostrils flaring.
"You grew up mistreated even by the people who should have been protecting you," he muttered, setting his gloved fists in his lap. "I think I am beginning to understand a few things about you. The reason you loved your Ella as much as you did was because she was all you had."
Those words were so painfully accurate that it made his chest ache.
"I guess, in a way, you could look at it like that," he croaked, swallowing his rising tears, "but the real reason I loved her is because she could look me in the eye and tell me that I mattered, that my life wasn't a mistake, and that my existence had meaning."
"Why would you think your life didn't matter?" Sinmir angrily inquired. "How could you?"
Xaphile snapped his mouth shut and turned his head back towards Ella.
"Answer me."
"I don't want to."
"Why?"
"Because dwelling on these things hurts."
"The fact that you don't fully trust me also hurts, Xaphile."
When Sinmir said it, his ears drooped... but then, he took a deep breath and sat up. Hiding his eyes with his hair, he swallowed and decided to just get everything over with. Why he was giving in over something as simple as this was a question he didn't want answered.
"When I was really, really little," he rasped, voice coming out hoarse, "my mother died. And about a week afterwards, my father kicked me in the chest so hard that I went flying through a glass door. He told me to my face that my birth was a mistake."
Sinmir looked thunderstruck.
"He what...?"
"You heard me," Xaphile retorted, closing his eyes. "I won't draw out the details since talking about this makes me really uncomfortable, but I was basically my dad's punching bag for most of my life. I was physically and verbally abused by him until I turned fifteen years old. "
The shock on the blonde man's face turned to rage in an instant.
"Were he still alive," he hissed, grey eyes swirling with ire, "I would gut him."
"That wouldn't solve anything," Xaphile muttered, shaking his head. "The second big reason I killed myself back on Earth was because I understood him after Ella died."
"What in Asgrog's forge is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I understand the reason my father became the way he did," he retorted. "He was suffering because my mother died, and he had no way to get those emotions out of him, so he resorted to drinking and taking his hurt and anger out on me. I felt like I would become the same kind of person that he did if I didn't... end it. Even now, I feel like I actually am, still."
Sinmir leaned forward and snatched his left horn, jerking his head upright.
The tears that had brimmed up there flew into the air and landed on his beard.
"You aren't anything like that, nor will you ever be," he said harshly, staring straight into his irises and down into the pits of his soul. "I've heard enough to tell you with absolute certainty that you and your father are two very different breed of men. He was a poison to your heart and mind."
"Poison or not," Xaphile quietly told him, lifting a hand and touching Sinmir's thick fingers, "he was my father. And I know what you're going to say... that he was wrong, that nothing he said should get to me, and that I should ignore it. But it did get to me. I couldn't ignore it. Ella spent five years of her life trying to convince me that I really mattered, but it never fully worked."
Sinmir's hand slid away from his horn and slid down across his long hair, coming to a rest on his shoulder. Then, leaning forward, he roughly pulled Xaphile into an embrace, practically crushing the life out of him.
"I cannot say that I understand your heartache," he grunted, "nor can I do anything that will make this situation easier on you... but please, lad... stop making that face."
"You're the one who wanted to talk about this," Xaphile wheezed, finding it rather hard to breathe with the pressure on his torso.
"If I had known it would bring an expression like that out of you," Sinmir muttered, "I would not have pressed the subject. I would have listened."
Xaphile swallowed, then weakly hugged him back. The man seemed genuinely surprised by the gesture, so surprised, in fact, that it made him loosen his hold.
Then Ella's eyes flashed open.
Sinmir, who noticed, released him and sat up straight.
"Lady Ella," he muttered, making her dazed eyes shift in his direction, "are you well?"
For several seconds, she looked extremely confused, as if she were only half awake, but then she saw Xaphile and almost as if she'd been struck by a bolt of lightning, her whole body seized and she lunged upright, eyes flashing around in hysteria.
"Where am I?!" she shrieked, patting her hips and gasping when she realized her daggers were gone. "Where did my weapons go?!"
"Are you saying you remember nothing?" Sinmir demanded.
She froze for a second before her head turned to look at Xaphile, then she looked at Sinmir, lifting a hand and pointing at the edge of the burrow.
"With all due respect," she said softly, "I need a few moments alone with him. Please. I need to have a very urgent word."
Sinmir's eyes narrowed, and he looked like he was going to fire a retort, but Xaphile lifted his hand.
"It's fine," he rasped, making the blonde blink. "I need to talk to her myself, anyway."
"Will you be all right alone with her?" he grimly questioned. "Is it safe?"
"I think I can handle it. Plus, it's not like you have to go very far."
Sinmir obviously didn't like the idea, but he gave into the solemn expression being sent his way.
"Bah, fine," he muttered, crawling towards the entrance to the burrow. "Holler if you need aid."
When he vanished out into the open, Xaphile was all too aware that he and Ella were alone with each other, but for the longest time only the sound of their breathing filled the air.
He didn't turn around.
Nor did he know what to expect.
But he most certainly wasn't expecting the sensation of two soft, violently trembling hands being pressed against the small of his back. He stiffened when she tentatively felt around the place where he'd been stabbed, searching for any sign of the healed wound.
When she yielded no results, she pulled back.
"Where is the wound?" she whispered. "Xaphile... tell me."
"Vrael healed it," he explained, but before she could question him, he added, "he and Amelia can use their magic again since I was somehow able to get their bindings off."
For another long moment, there was nothing but silence behind him.
Then...
"I'm so sorry."
The apology was unexpectedly weak and didn't sound right.
Hair standing on end, Xaphile twisted and abruptly looked over his shoulder to find Ella looking straight at him with eyes full of terror-stricken tears, whole body shaking like a leaf.
"Ella," he muttered, trying to hide the extreme anxiety that clawed up his throat. "Don't apologize."
"I'm sorry," she repeated, speaking in little more than a watery squeak. "I couldn't do anything to fight him. I was trapped within my own body. And... and he... he marked me, Xaphile... he..."
His heart sank down through his stomach and his annoying ears followed suit, drooping listlessly off the sides of his head.
"I understand that you weren't in control, and I don't blame you for what happened," he said softly. "I've been healed, so the injury is gone now."
"That doesn't make it all right!" she angrily cried, flinging her head around. "I've been trying so hard to fix the problems between us! It was my fault! I couldn't fight against him!"
"If it helps clear your mind, neither could I," Xaphile bluntly retorted, making her pause. "He marked me, too, Ella... and he used the same strange mind-control power on me earlier."
When she stared at him in confusion, he lifted a hand and pulled his hair away from his neck, but the second her eyes landed on the healed puncture scars on his throat, she froze, already-pale skin turning even whiter than her hair.
Crawling forward and scooting around his left wing, she touched the tooth marks on his neck, then touched the nearly identical marks on her own.
"What did he do to you after I lost consciousness?" she demanded. "Did he hurt you any further? Tell me!"
"He marked me, forced me to tell the truth about my intentions, and used that freakish mind-control ability of his to make me find you guys," he muttered, shivering violently. "Not only that, he's apparently going to be the one teaching me how to use my wings, magic, and my body."
Ella's eyes widened and she jerked back.
"No," she spat, shaking her head. "We're leaving. What they've done to you is unforgivable!"
Xaphile's lips pressed into a thin line, but he took a deep breath through his nose, filled his lungs with clean air, and let it out with a heavy sigh.
"I've decided to roll with the punches," he informed her. "We can't just up and leave anymore."
"And why ever not?!" Ella cried, clutching his arm with a furious expression. "Why can't we just leave this place?!"
"Several reasons," he snorted. "For one thing, he marked both of us. For another, I have no idea how to use my wings, my body, or even this so-called magic that keeps me tied to your lands. We don't really have a choice, so I've decided to stay in spite of the dangers being presented."
Ella opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, but for all her struggling, she couldn't formulate a proper response.
Her face screwed up.
Leaning forward, she let her head thump against his arm.
"You're doing it again," she hissed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Thrusting yourself headlong into danger, with no heed to the perils that might come your way. This time, I refuse to let you do it alone."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that if you're truly determined to use this as an opportunity," Ella growled, "I'm not going to be leaving your side. Idiot."
"Actually," Sinmir's voice suddenly cut in, making both of them jump, "that's not a smart idea."
"Who asked you?!" Ella shrieked, glaring at him in fury. "I asked you to leave!"
"And I didn't listen, since I'm under no obligation to do as you ask," he callously retorted, giving her a pert glance when she drew back in obvious offense; then he turned his eyes on Xaphile. "I admit that the idea of having someone go with you is a decent one, but Ella cannot do it."
"Why not?" she snapped, scowling at him.
"Because you're under that bastard's control, as well," Sinmir explained, raising a thick blonde eyebrow. "I saw the fight between you and Phil. You're not safe near that Faery since he could use you as a potential weapon against any one of us."
"But, I... I..." she stammered, then huffed and glared at him. "Fine. Who do you suggest protects him?"
"Me," Sinmir retorted, tilting his head when both she and Xaphile stared at him. "You can mark my words, I'll be keeping a very close watch on him from here on, even if he can't see me."
Ella frowned, then let out a sigh and ruffled her hair.
"Fine," she muttered, shaking her head. "Just make sure he is kept safe."
"On my honor," Sinmir grunted, slapping his fist against his breast. "You have my word."
When he shifted his way back into the burrow and rested against an earthy root, Ella looked at Xaphile and took note of his appearance.
Her eyes glazed over when he turned slightly, long ears bobbing, and regarded her with a slightly worried expression, remembering with a flash of guilt that he had used martial arts to disarm and disable her.
He had not even thought of the aftereffects she ought to be suffering from.
"How does your back feel?"
Ella almost jumped off the dirt in surprise.
"Eh? Er, I am not... hurting," she admitted, "I suppose you were gentler with me than I thought."
He looked away, relieved.
"Good," he murmured. "I wasn't trying to hurt you. I only wanted to make sure you were out just long enough for me to handle the real threat."
"Thank you," she muttered. "And again, I am sorry."
"Enough," Sinmir sighed, giving them a frown. "The brashness of the situation is over now, so stop apologizing and dwelling over it. Now, do you two feel like eating something?"
"Yes," Ella instantly confirmed. "I am actually very hungry."
"And you?" Sinmir asked, casting a glance his way. "Are you hungry?"
Xaphile wordlessly nodded, since he was feeling more than a little famished, and with a sigh the prince crawled back out of the burrow and vanished from sight.
Once he was gone, Ella turned, staring at Xaphile's messy hair with speculative eyes.
The decorations hadn't been removed yet, and the silken strands were snarled and slightly matted with dirt and other things. Turning and looking around for her pack, she found it by the edge of the burrow and dragged it over, digging around for something, but it was only when she pulled out a comb that he glanced her way.
"What are you doing?" he wearily asked. "What's with the comb?"
"Well, your hair is a mess," she snorted, giving him a scowl. "May I have your permission to comb it out? It might get ruined from the tangles if its left the way it is, and I honestly don't desire to see that happen."
"Why?" he asked, staring at her in total confusion. "My hair length doesn't have any real relevance to me, personally."
She scowled even more deeply, then glanced away.
"I like the way it looks, all right?" she muttered, letting out a huff. "Just let me neaten it a little."
He looked at her for a moment, then inclined his head and turned back around.
Eyes brightening at the gesture of acceptance, Ella carefully began to remove the tribal decorations from his tresses, then undid the extensive braids. Once his hair had been undone, she carefully began running the bristles of the comb through his long tresses.
The sensation was oddly soothing.
Xaphile felt lulled to the point of actually nodding off as she gently ran the comb across his scalp and down through his hair.
But then, it happened...
A strange tickle touched his lower jaw when an unfamiliar muscle deep within the base of his vocal chords unexpectedly began to vibrate.
Before he realized what was happening, a deep, animalistic sound that vaguely resembled a lion's growl escaped his closed mouth.
When he jumped, blinking in surprise, Ella jerked away.
The noise stopped.
"Did you just growl at me?!" she demanded, looking equal parts shocked and outraged. "I can't believe it! Explain to me why you would utter such a threatening sound!"
"That wasn't even voluntary!" he squeaked, turning and giving her a wide-eyed look. "I'm not upset or anything! The comb felt nice."
Her outrage faded into a look of perplexity... then she glanced at his tail before her face went slack and an odd expression suddenly slid across her countenance.
"Well, turn back around, then," she muttered, frowning at him. "I'm not even close to being done."
When he did as she requested and once again started running the comb through his hair, pleasant tingles ran down his spine and made the fur on his tail fluff out. He had an unexpected urge to stretch his whole body, but he suppressed it since there wasn't much room to stretch.
Plus, it would have been weird.
He closed his eyes, focused solely on the spines of the comb being dragged through his hair, and just like that, the bizarre muscle in his throat vibrated yet again.
He stiffened, mouth opening slightly to tell Ella he wasn't growling, but the sound grew louder.
Instead of getting angry, however, she actually let out a small laugh.
"Now I understand!" she exclaimed. "You're not growling. You're purring!"
He did a double take.
"Purring?" he scoffed, looking over his shoulder in dismay. "No way!"
As if to counteract his protest, she ran the comb through his hair again and his toes curled. Eyes drifting shut of their own accord, his tail fluffed out and that strange noise escaped his open mouth. He instantly snapped his jaws together with a click, but the sound still came out strong.
And loud.
"How quaint," Ella sneered, looking thoroughly amused. "I have to say, I never thought you were capable of doing something like this. I find it rather funny."
"Funny?" he asked, giving her a worried look. "It doesn't... bother you, then?"
She blinked, looking surprised by his inquiry.
"Why would it bother me?" she demanded, frowning a little. "I believe I've already said and demonstrated that I trust you more than a little. I fail to see how this question is legitimate."
He averted his eyes.
"You once said to me," he muttered, letting out a sigh, "that you hate everything to do with cats, no matter what it is. Do you remember?"
Ella flinched and her hand stopped combing, signaling that she'd forgotten about that.
"I used to," she sniffed, running the comb through his hair once again, "but lately, I've discovered that they've been growing on me a little."
His ear flicked when she said it, but aside from that he didn't react until she ran the comb through his hair and another purr filled the air.
For the longest time, they sat there, locked in their own little bubble. It was actually kind of bizarre how calming the most mundane of things had become for him. If he could feel this relaxed from just having his hair brushed, what would reading a book do?
Ella brushed his hair until it neatly extended down his back and slid out on the earthy ground nearly a foot from his body. Then, lifting her hands, she gently touched the glossy feathers stretching across his wings. He shivered a little beneath her touch, but didn't flinch.
"Hey," she murmured, struck by a sudden curiosity, "if you ever learn to fly properly, would you consider carrying me into the sky with you? If only once?"
The question caught him off guard, but he thought about it for a few minutes.
"I guess," he eventually sighed. "If it's possible, I wouldn't really be against it."
A gleam sparked behind her eyes, but she didn't say anything more.
Not long after, Sinmir's voice wafted down.
"Oi!" he barked. "Ella! Phil! Grab everything and come up here!"
Ella's face darkened, but she reluctantly did as she was told. Putting the comb into her pack, she and Xaphile both grabbed the backpacks and cloaks lying in the burrow before crawling out into the open. To their surprise, however, Amelia, Gus, and Vrael had returned with someone.
Krishna was sitting astride her squirrel, looking pleased, and more than wide awake.
"Greetings, Vadil," she murmured, smiling at him when he blinked at her. "I was told that you've decided to forsake the festivities in favor of resting. I've decided to return you and your mortals to the island residence."
"Thanks," he murmured, blinking yet again. "I appreciate it."
Her grin was warm and more than a little pleased. Her amber eyes drilled into his own with a strange glint, but when she held her hand out, he took it with no hesitation. He was careful about his wings when she pulled him onto the squirrel's back.
"We'll go slowly until we arrive at the jumping stone," she informed him. "Once there, I'll return each of you to the island in pairs."
"I have another request," he noted, making her glance at him with eager eyes. "We actually made it to Calcoon by riding on our own mounts. Our horses. They've been tied to a few trees outside the unpleasant magical barrier along the road."
Her eyes widened.
"Why did you not say so sooner?" she questioned. "We would have had them groomed and properly cared for!"
Xaphile stiffened, then cast a sharp look at Gus, who was staring at the woman with furrowed brows and a look of total confusion etched across his features. When the hunter noticed his aghast expression, he shook his head and shrugged, then folded his arms.
"I was not certain what your customs were in regards to the domestication of animals," he said simply, giving Krishna the absolute truth. "One of my... servants... informed me that the faeries of Calcoon hated such things, so to prevent any possible chance of offense, we left them behind. I've actually been fairly confused about it since you've domesticated giant squirrels."
Krishna blinked, then smiled softly.
"Vadil, we do not domesticate the animals of the forest," she told him, patting her mount, "we befriend them and form a bond. These creatures allow us to ride them of their own choosing."
"I see," he murmured, nodding twice.
"Well, let us be off," Krishna happily bellowed, and with that, they started moving. "To the lake!"
Needless to say, the trip there wasn't very long.
But there were definitely a lot of things everyone needed to discuss again.